Skip to content

The Nuclear Option — ‘Firewall’: The Clintons Like Black People… So Long as They Know Their Place


Hillary Clinton’s “firewall,” they call it. They don’t even wink and nod anymore. But they all know what they mean by it.

By “they,” we are talking about the Democratic Party, the last plantation left in America. And by “firewall,” they are talking about the black voters they haul out every election to do whatever dirty work party leaders need done.


This year’s dirty work, of course, is finally heaving that cackling, pant-suited enabler Hillary Clinton over the line to the nomination. Let her have her shot so she will finally go away.

But the blindingly white Democratic voters in Iowa and New Hampshire either refused to do the dirty work or kicked up such a ruckus over being forced to do it that they made it plenty clear to the entire world just how much even Democrats cannot stand the Clintons anymore — especially Hillary.

Now on to Nevada and South Carolina where Democrats can boss voters around a little easier and order them into line for Mrs. Clinton. In South Carolina, the Democratic Party chairman once famously dismissed the notion that Democrats buy “the black vote” down there.

“I just want to rent it for one day,” he said. Funny guy.

Politics remains the last industry in America where racial profiling is not only tolerated, it is lustily embraced and the very lifeblood of pollsters, politicians and operatives. Battalions of demographers are employed in both parties to slice and dice voters based on racial profiling so that special messages can be tailored to each one.

If you got caught selling cigarettes or malt liquor like that, you would be jailed. Or, at the very least, be put out of business. Or shamed into oblivion.

But in politics, it is the North Star. And Mrs. Clinton will follow it to the South and the West.

Already, Mrs. Clinton has sewn up the support from the Congressional Black Caucus Political Action Committee, a sure sign of her establishment status. And hit men have been dispatched.

Rep. John Lewis, Georgia Democrat, dismissed Sen. Bernard Sanders’ claim to have worked for the civil rights movement.

“I never saw him. I never met him,” said Mr. Lewis, who has dutifully lined up behind Clinton.

Eight years ago, the great lion of the civil rights movement had endorsed Hillary Clinton. But in late February as the momentum gathered for then-Sen. Barack Obama, Mr. Lewis deserted the Clintons.

We all remember what happened last time somebody messed with the Clinton’s “firewall” in South Carolina. Bubba got dispatched to take Barack Obama out at the knees, comparing him to lifelong race-hustler Rev. Jesse Jackson.

Sure, the FIRE. And wait their turn.

After all, look at all the black friends they have. I mean, she got endorsed by the entire Congressional Black Caucus Political Action Committee!

Then along comes Bernie Sanders, who is perhaps the whitest person to ever run for president in American history. And he hails from what is probably the whitest state in the country.

One of the great scenes of this election filled with so many great moments was when Mr. Sanders became so flustered and disoriented by Black Lives Matter protesters joining him on stage that he fled.

So it is understandable that he might be a little lost stepping out of the privileged confines of New Hampshire, which is almost as white as his neighboring home of Vermont. He did what any desperate Democrat does in a crisis like this. He called Al Sharpton and asked for a very public meeting at a diner.

They met at Sylvia’s, a soul food joint in Harlem. (And who said Bernie can’t jump?) Mr. Sanders brought along so many photographers and reporters to capture the moment he sat at a table with an actual black person that they had to put up a velvet rope to give them a little room.

Now, I have not personally confirmed this but I was told that at this very moment, Mr. Sanders and Mr. Sharpton are still sitting at that table inside Sylvia’s Restaurant, behind that velvet rope.

Turns out that when the bill came, neither one of them had ever picked up a tab in their lives so they just sat there. Just the two of them. And the bill. Every few minutes, one of them will wordlessly point with their eyes to the check as if to day, “You’re getting this, right?”

Charles Hurt can be reached at Follow him on Twitter at @charleshurt.

Comment count on this article reflects comments made on and Facebook. Visit Breitbart's Facebook Page.